


Do Hawks Dream Of Arrows And Slings?

by lil_1337



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has nightmares about being under Loki's control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Hawks Dream Of Arrows And Slings?

Six weeks out from 'cognitive recalibration' and helping the rest of The Avengers save New York Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton appeared to have put the whole Loki's thrall thing behind him. His report was written and filed, all of his transgressions carefully detailed and filed in triplicate for anyone who had the clearance to see. Despite the lives taken and the sabotage to the helicarrier Director Fury and a disciplinary panel found him blameless, something Clint could not bring himself to do.

He hurt for the agents he had killed and injured, but he'd been able to wall that off. You didn't survive long as a master assassin if you couldn't deal with the realities of death. Phil's loss though, and the pain he had caused Natasha, they were real and personal not part of the mission. Those failures belonged on the debt side of his ledger and would not easily balanced. Black Widow wasn't the only one with a blood soaked tally sheet. Nor was hers any better or worse than the one attached to Clint's name.

As far as SHIELD was concerned Clint was as emotionally sound as he had ever been. But then they didn't know about the dreams and he planned to keep it that way. There was no doubt in his mind that if the shrinks knew of the horror movie landscapes that haunted his sleep they would have him back on medical leave so fast even Director Fury would have whiplash. Sitting around while people prodded at his brain and psyche was the last thing that Clint wanted or needed right now. Working kept his hands and his mind busy enough that exhaustion afforded him a few hours of actual rest a night.

Any extra time could be devoted to practice. He didn't become and stay a champion marksman, by sitting on his ass. He worked at it using reserves of patience that a lot of people would be surprised to know he possessed. Clearing his mind of everything but the target and focusing on burning the feel of look, pull, release deeper into his muscle memory. It was positive, productive, and kept the demons at bay. At least until his eyelids were so heavy he could no longer fight the need for sleep.

Booze just made the dreams worse and impaired his ability to pull himself from the arms of Morpheus. He'd learned that the hard way when he'd woken up screaming to find Natasha crouching next to his bed chewing on her thumb. She knew him well enough to know trying to wake him up was a risky gamble at best. That was the last time he'd touched a drop. He needed his head clear and if the anesthetizing qualities weren't going to give him peace then what the hell was the point?

Part of him ached to be held, nothing sexual just pure human comfort. The very thought of sex was enough to make him want to vomit until bile burned his throat and his stomach was as empty as his soul. He knew he could crawl into bed with Natasha and she hold him for as long as he wanted, but if he let his guards down that far he would fall apart a piece at a time until there was nothing lef. If that happened Clint wasn't sure he could ever be put back together. Maybe he didn't deserve to be. Maybe he was chosen because he was already broken beyond repair. Or maybe Loki took delight in trashing his toys so they were unusable when he was finished with them.

So many maybes and what ifs danced across the landscape of his mind. That was the thing holding him back, his physical injuries had long since healed. It was the uncertainty, the self doubt and recriminations that ate at him. He had regrets, who didn't? But never before had he carried the burden of wondering if he was in his right mind or if he could trust his own judgment. How much of a liability was he ? Really?

Would the day ever come when he could close his eyes and not see the bodies of his friends on the ground at his feet with his arrows piercing their flesh while Loki stood over them a proud smile curving his lips? Right now he wasn't sure if feared them or what might come after more. Sometimes as he lay in bed battling sleep with as much ferocity as he had fought the Chitaurians he wondered if redemption would always be just beyond his grasp, taunting him. And yet in the midst of all this there had been a flash of hope that maybe, just maybe, if he worked hard enough and proved himself, some day when there was a little less red in his ledger he'd earn the right to sleep.


End file.
